


The First Thanksgiving

by SweetHermitress



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Alcohol, Fluff, M/M, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 10:49:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8575426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetHermitress/pseuds/SweetHermitress
Summary: This fic takes place between the episodes "A Lazy Day" and "Missing."  It is Cecil and Carlos' first Thanksgiving together.  Everything seems to be going wrong, but works out in the end.  THE BROWNSTONE SPIRE is groveled to, thanking it for all it has done - and all it has not done.





	

Carlos had spent a Thanksgiving in Night Vale before, but this was the first year he felt he really had something to be thankful for. That first Thanksgiving he and his scientists had run tests on the various gluten-free stuffings, and a few had been brave - or foolish - enough to follow the citizens to THE BROWNSTONE SPIRE for the yearly groveling. Only one came back alive, his groveling having apparently pleased the Spire. Carlos called his mother, who asked again why he couldn't have visited. He admitted, it would have been nice to have some home cooked food, but a scientist couldn't afford to be sentimental when there was work to be done.

Cecil had to remind Carlos a week in advance that Thanksgiving was, indeed, coming. Cecil insisted that they have a proper holiday with all the fixings and invite their friends who didn't have family to celebrate with. Cecil often spent the holiday on the air, but Station Management had indicated to him that they would have Intern Raizy take care of everything so he could have the day off. It was Cecil's first Thanksgiving off in years, and he was thrilled to spend it with Carlos and their friends.

Carlos was a little nervous. He had never been in charge of Thanksgiving himself. Certainly he helped his mother with some side dishes, but he'd never cooked a whole turkey or any of that. Cecil reassured him. "With everyone coming, they'll be bringing side dishes, so you can concentrate on the bird. And the pie. Ooh, and I should get some wine - or maybe champagne would be nice. Oh, I'll have to clean off the china..." He trailed off, listing more and more things they needed to take care of. This didn't exactly add to Carlos' confidence.

There were two things that worked to Carlos' advantage: For one thing, Cecil was glad to take care of all the invites, the decorations, and the table-settings. More importantly, Cecil didn't disagree with the wisdom given to Carlos by his mother when he called for advice: "Dress comfortably, and make sure the wine is open before noon."

Cecil and Carlos were sitting in front of the TV watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, one of the few broadcasts from outside of Night Vale they could reliably see. Neither of them knew any of the celebrities, but they liked the music and the floats. Carlos' mind kept wandering to the kitchen. All right, he had made the pumpkin pie last night and the turkey was brining. The rest of the sides were coming from their friends.

The Parade had ended and the dog show was on. Cecil left it on and was cooing over the contestants in the Extreme Sporting Dog category when the phone rang. Cecil picked it up as Carlos popped open the first bottle of wine. As he sipped, he heard Cecil's voice drop. Cecil came into the kitchen.

"That was Michelle Nguyen. She said Thanksgiving is just a trite excuse for the killing of meat and that she was going vegan for the day as a statement against agricultural colonialism and wouldn't make it."

Carlos picked up his wine glass and took a heavy slug. Well, let's see. Michelle was only bringing gluten-free dinner rolls anyway. That would be fine if they didn't have those.

Cecil switched the channels to watch the Mystery Science Theater 3000 Turkey Day marathon. Carlos bustled about the kitchen. Should he make the salad now or should he boil the potatoes? Probably the salad. He reached into the fridge to get the greens when he heard the phone ring again. Once again, Cecil answered it, and once again Carlos heard Cecil's voice change from perky to sullen. He peeked his head out of the kitchen.

Cecil sighed. "That was John Peters - you know the farmer? He said he can't make it. Some sort of farm emergency."

Carlos was disappointed of course, but the practical side of him ran down the list to remember what John was bringing. OK, he was going to bring a casserole made from his own imaginary corn. Well, that's not too bad - there would still be plenty of sides. He poured himself some more wine, made the salad, and peeled the potatoes.

Carlos had put the turkey in the oven and took a breath of relief. Now all they had to do was wait. He downed the rest of his wine and, starting to feel warm from it, drowsily put his arm around Cecil. Cecil kissed his cheek and Carlos felt his cell phone buzz. He fumbled with his pocket a moment before answering. It was his team of scientists. A specimen in the lab had broken containment and now the rest of them were busy trying to wrestle it back into its jar. Even if they succeeded soon, they still had to decontaminate themselves, which would take the better part of the day, so they wouldn't make it either. Carlos' heart sank. His team was going to bring the cornbread stuffing, cranberry sauce, and green bean casserole. Those were the best sides! Glumly, he went to the bottle of wine and poured himself some more. 

Cecil sighed. "So much for our first Thanksgiving being a hit."

Just then, the doorbell rang. That's right! Old Woman Josie was still coming! Well, they'd have their choice between her sweet potato pie and Carlos' pumpkin pie, but he hoped she didn't mind all the other sides were missing. Feeling a little light-headed from all the wine, Carlos stumbled to the front door and opened it. He was surprised to see the front porch was crowded: there in front was Josie holding her pie, but around her were several tall, radiant beings. One of them was black, and they were all holding bags and casserole dishes.

"Hello, Carlos," Josie grinned. "I hope you don't mind, I brought a few friends. We brought extra so it wouldn't put you out too much." 

Carlos looked over his shoulder at Cecil, who had tears of joy welling in his eyes. "No, that's great!" said Carlos. "Please, come in."

Josie entered first, then her tall friends. As it turned out they were all named Erika, and they were definitely not angels. They had brought all the sides they were missing - cornbread stuffing, cranberry sauce, green bean casserole, gluten-free rolls, imaginary corn casserole - and even a few others they hadn't thought to make, like oyster dressing and venison stew. One of the Erikas smiled conspiratorially at Carlos and produced a bottle of wine from their bag. Carlos let loose a little giggle and asked Erika to pour for everyone. Erika winked at Carlos as they poured him more than they had for the others.

When Carlos made to return to the kitchen, he found it full of Erikas. One was putting the potatoes on the stove to boil, another was checking the thermometer in the turkey, and another was pouring chicken stock over the giblets to make gravy. They shooed Carlos out of the kitchen and told him they'd take care of the rest. Thus removed from his own kitchen, Carlos flopped down next to Cecil, who was catching up with Josie. They were chatting about their old bowling league and how it would be nice to do it again, if only there wasn't the tiny city of aggressors under Lane Five at the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex. Carlos was tipsily explaining how, scientifically, it might be possible to contain them somehow when Erika came in and announced dinner was ready.

Even though Carlos had taken care of the majority of the cooking, he still insisted to Cecil that he be the one to carve the bird. This was mainly because he knew Cecil would say someone poetic about the day, and talking was never Carlos' strong suit. Sure enough, Cecil inhaled deeply, then began to speak. 

"Here we are, Thanksgiving Day. It's interesting how history records the first Thanksgiving as a rather uncomfortable affair between the native people and the newcomers, yet here we are able to comfortably enjoy each other's company. Maybe it doesn't really matter that Thanksgiving began as an interloper's celebration of survival, because all that matters is that we have come together. We are together! And even though we may face interlopers of our own, we can still unite to celebrate in each other's company. So let us raise our glasses today, friends, and drink to many more days ahead together."

They all clinked their glasses together - Carlos a bit louder than he had intended - and murmured their agreement. Everything was delicious.

Later, after they had had time to digest their meal, they all hurried out the door to make sure they made it in time for the annual groveling to THE BROWNSTONE SPIRE. The Erikas left, somehow immune to this ritual, but Cecil offered his arm to Josie, who took it gratefully as the three of them made their way to the Spire.

Carlos was still feeling a bit heady from all the wine, but he fell to his knees, as Cecil had advised him to. He really didn't know what to say, so he merely said, "Thanks for letting me be with Cecil. Not just today, but all the time. And thanks for letting us get away unharmed. Things have been a little crazy lately, but I know we're going to get through this. So thank you for that."

His words blended in with all the pleas from all the other citizens. However, through the din Carlos heard a rumble he was sure was only in his head, "YOUR THANKS HAS PLEASED THE BROWNSTONE SPIRE. YOU MAY RETURN IN ONE YEAR'S TIME TO PROVIDE YOUR SUPPLICATION ONCE MORE."

Awkwardly, he stood. He glanced over and saw Cecil was covering his head, but hesitantly standing as well. Josie had long been finished and was waiting patiently for them. She told them Erika would come get her dishes over the weekend, hugged them goodbye, and started walking back to her house out by the car lot. Cecil linked his fingers with Carlos.

"Did you have a good Thanksgiving, Carlos?" he asked.

Carlos nodded. "It looked a little touch and go for a while, but it all worked out in the end."

Cecil nodded as well. They walked in silence a bit before Cecil murmured, "Did you mean what you said?"

"Hm?"

"At THE BROWNSTONE SPIRE. Did you mean what you said? That you think we're going to get through this?" Before Carlos could answer, Cecil was going on, "Because with everything going on with Strex Corps - "

"Shh," Carlos insisted. "Today's such a nice day. Let's not talk about them today. Let's just enjoy what we have."

Cecil exhaled heavily. "They're at the radio station. They're everywhere. What do we have, Carlos?"

Carlos stopped in his tracks and looked at Cecil. He smiled gently. "We have each other."

Cecil slowly smiled back. "And that's worth fighting for."

Carlos leaned in and kissed him. "Happy Thanksgiving, Cecil."


End file.
